


Chasing Tallulah

by become_android



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Drowning, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Sex, F/F, Interrupted Sex, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Slow Burn, assassin eve, fsb agent oksana, i know you all might hate this but eve goes by tallulah in this, masturbation at VERY inappropriate times, side character has cancer so mentions of that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24920626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/become_android/pseuds/become_android
Summary: Despite her low-ranking position in Russia's Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Oksana Astankova knows her future holds something grander than drunken office parties and fighting with her former foster mom. It just turns out that something grander comes in the form of a deadly, international assassin who goes by Tallulah. As Oksana draws closer and closer to catching the other woman, so too do they both grow more and more obsessed with each other.
Relationships: Anna Leonova/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Eve Polastri/Niko Polastri, Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Nadia Kadomtseva/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	1. High quality stuff, don’t worry

Rain had never been Tallulah’s favorite. No matter how well-fitting your parka or how large your umbrella, you were always bound to get soaked. When she’d taken her job with the promise of fun and travel, she hadn’t anticipated all the shitty weather worldwide. Here she sat in a parked car in Yekaterinburg, Russia, and the heavy downpour squashed any promise of exploration and excitement. After she finished her job, she’d be committed to her hotel room to binge on room service until it was time for her flight to an equally rainy London. It shocked her when she found out London was a lot more overcast and rainy than she originally remembered from her trips when she was young; those memories of course were over forty years old, so she supposed they weren’t the most reliable. She should have asked to be located somewhere dry, somewhere like Athens or Madrid, but of course she had to chase the memories that were there instead of choosing to make new ones somewhere else.

While one of Tallulah’s hands fished the last couple crisps from the bottom of their bag, the other reached across to the file laying in her passenger seat. She flipped it open, looking down at the image of a smiling man and woman. He wore a simple, gray suit, but it was obviously tailor made and pricey, and the watch on his wrist looked just as expensive. The woman, his wife, wore a pale blue dress that hit her just above the knee, and she had her face turned towards her husband. They looked happy. They looked in love. Tallulah let go of the file and watched it quickly close. She crinkled up her empty crisps bag and tossed it behind her to the pile of trash building in her back seat. Elena would have to help her clean it out again, which would piss the other woman off since they had just cleaned it, and like a very deep clean. Trash thrown out, floor vacuumed, seats scrubbed. The whole schbang.

Just as Tallulah opened her phone to shoot a text to Elena, movement at the end of the street caught her eye. It was the couple from the photo. The man wore a similar suit, black this time instead of gray though, and the woman wore a long, bright red dress with a slit along the side to let a glimpse of her legs peek through. They had just spent a lovely evening at Shustov, dining on goose liver pâté and baltic smelt. Next they probably planned on heading to a nearby friend’s place for some post-dinner drinks before heading back to their hotel. Tallulah knew this because she had been watching their activities repeat the past four nights. This night, though, their plans would change. As soon as the couple got close enough, Tallulah turned on the engine of her car and pulled out of her spot.

“What the hell?” The man shouted as Tallulah sped her car past them, hitting a puddle on the way. She had gone slow enough that it only hit his wife but fast enough that she was completely covered in the dirty street water. Tallulah smiled as she watched the woman’s horrified face. Her husband wrapped an arm around her and they changed their course for the hotel.

Just as Tallulah predicted, the couple had ordered for a housekeeper as soon as they’d returned to their suite. With a short knock, the room’s door opened and Tallulah, dressed in the uniform she'd stolen from a housekeeper she'd killed, smiled and said, “You were having a problem, Mr. Peterson?”

“Yes, yes, please come in,” He said, stomping back in with Tallulah close behind. The shower was running. Since he wore only a towel and Mrs. Peterson was nowhere to be found, she assumed that as soon as she left he would hop in the shower with his wife. He gestured to the sopping wet dress on the floor and said, “Some asshole splashed my wife after dinner with his car. Spent $5000 on that dress, and now it’s covered in absolute filth.”

“Oh, there’s no mess we can’t clean up,” Tallulah reassured him. She bent over and picked up the dress and had to hold back a smile.

“Freddy, do you have my conditioner in the toiletries bag still?” Mrs. Peterson said as she poked her head from the bathroom. She shot a confused smile at Tallulah and said, “Oh, hi there. Are you from housekeeping?”

“Yes.”

“Did you lose your conditioner?” Mr. Peterson asked, and Mrs. Peterson shrugged, looking a little exasperated.

“I must have misplaced it. Can’t seem to remember where I put it.”

“On my cart just outside I have extra conditioners,” Tallulah said holding up a hand before the woman could object, “High quality stuff, don’t worry.”

“Well, I suppose it couldn’t do any harm,” Mrs. Peterson said, looking over to her husband with a smile, “Saves sending him out to the store during all this weather just to pick up a bottle when I’m sure it’ll turn up eventually.”

“Indeed.” When Tallulah exited the room, she placed the dress in a trash bag before pulling her carefully crafted conditioner from a secret compartment in the cart. She couldn’t risk any kleptomaniacs snatching it and dying before she could get her job done. The man opened the door and took the conditioner from Tallulah with a swift “thank you” before leaving Tallulah in the hall. She stood there, straining her ear to listen to the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Peterson’s strangled gasps as the toxin in the conditioner overtook their lungs and they passed out in the shower, the water they had trusted to cleanse them instead beginning to fill their lungs. Once she heard the thump of their bodies falling to the floor, Tallulah took the room’s key and swiftly opened the door, making her way straight to the bathroom. The couple lay on the shower’s tiled floor, but the husband was clawing at the door instead of laying face down in the water.

Since he didn’t want to drown in the shower, Tallulah drowned him in the toilet.

As Tallulah marched down the hotel stairs, she scrolled through her contacts and clicked on one. A familiar voice picked up, “How’d the job go?”

“It’s done.”

“Good. Let’s get drinks to celebrate.”

~~~

The sounds of pans clattering jolted Oksana out of her heavy slumber. She had just been getting to the good part of her dream, the undressing of some woman whose face had already slipped from her memories. Probably some ex from long ago whose hours in bed together could derive only one recollection: pure pleasure. In the real world, there was nothing but displeasure. The cacophony from the kitchen was far too loud and oddly timed to allow Oksana to sink back into her dreams, so she had to swing her feet out of bed, pull on a robe, and slink into the other room to see what all the fuss was about.

Of course, it was Dasha making all the noise. Wearing her cheetah-print tracksuit with her name embellished on the back, she was the epitome of an annoyance. She was an uninvited guest making a nuisance in the early morning, and she obviously didn’t give a care in the world that she was. Another pot fell to the floor as Dasha threw open another cabinet, causing the woman to swear to high-heaven a flurry of words that would make a nun faint. Finally, Oksana had had enough. “You know, when I gave you the key to my apartment, I didn’t mean you could drop by anytime. It’s only for when I need you to plant-sit or dogsit. Not for whatever this is.”

“Do you have plants or dogs that need looked after?” Dasha said, shooting a challenging look over her shoulder as yet another pan fell with a crash.

“No, but--”

“Ah, see! Key with no meaning, then I get to make meaning,” Dasha says, wagging a finger with a smug look plastered on her weathered face, “And meaning is I get to come by and visit my old foster daughter whenever I please.”

“How can you visit if I was asleep?” Oksana said, crossing her arms and furrowing her brow. Dasha just shrugged, and Oksana’s brow furrowed even more. “Why are you here?”

“Why were you asleep so late?”

“There was a work party last night. Answer my question.”

“I don’t have a big enough pot to make all the stroganoff for your brother’s--”

“He’s not my brother, he’s your son.”

“--Birthday party tonight. I figured since I bought you all these pots and pans and you never cook, I could take some back home.”

“I cook,” Oksana said, picking up her pans from the floor and frowning at a new dent in her little egg pan. Damn that Dasha.

“Oh, tell me last time then. I bet you she can’t name last time.” As she spoke, Dasha waved her arms as if to rouse a chorus of laughter from an unseen audience.

“Why do you have to talk like that?” Oksana said, lifting her hands in the air and letting them fall to her side. Dasha cocked a brow, so she mimed Dasha’s voice and gestures, “Ah, you see she doesn’t even know she talks like this!”

“I don't talk like that.”

“You just did--”

“You’re coming to Leonid’s birthday tonight, yes?” Dasha asked, but it was one she only wanted one answer for. Of course, Oksana had to disappoint.

“No, I won’t be.”

“Oh, so you have time to go to work party and smooch with coworker,” Dasha tutted, turning around to pull more pans out, “But you have no time for your dear, dear brother?”

“He’s not my brother,” Oksana said, moving so she stood right next to Dasha, “How do you know about that?”

“Sweet, sweet Nadia has been texting you all morning,” Dasha said, faking a sad face as she waved Oksana’s phone in the air before turning it to read more of the texts, “She’s really too desperate if you ask me.”

“Gimme that!” Oksana huffed and snatched it from Dasha, quickly examining the notifications.

NADIA: i had fun last night, we should keep this going :) 

NADIA: if that’s ok with you 

AGNIYA: you better answer your texts, nadia is annoying the fuck out of me 

NADIA: i know you haven’t had any serious relationships, but i think we could work

DIEGO: do you think that nadia would let me fuck? 

NADIA: if you’re open to it 

AGNIYA: Work emergency, come in ASAP 

The last text was from half an hour ago, and Oksana swore as she raced back to her bedroom to change. As she buttoned up her blouse, Dasha sauntered into the room and said, “If you get fired, you won’t be able to use your job as an excuse not to come tonight.”

“Oh, piss off.”

Nadia was the first person to greet her at work, and Oksana was grateful for this only for the fact that Nadia had picked up a pączki for her. As they walked down the hall towards the conference room, Oksana started to take a couple bites from her pastry. Nadia spoke up and said, “You didn’t respond to any of my texts.”

“I was asleep,” Oksana said, looking to the side to roll her eyes. God, the day had barely started. Why did she have to drink last night? Nothing good ever came when she drank, and kissing a clingy coworker certainly was not good. Trying to switch things back to work, Oksana said, “So what’s this meeting about?”

“I’m not really sure, but I think some FSB agent is here? Konstantin Vasiliev?”

“You think?” Nadia shrugged her shoulders. They reached the door of the conference room, but just as Oksana had grabbed the door handle, Nadia and tugged on her sleeve. “Yes?”

“Last night was fun for you, right?”

“How could I not have had fun?” Oksana said. Just as Nadia’s smile began to widen, Oksana continued, “Agniya’s six months cancer free, I think we all had fun celebrating that.”

“You know I mean--”

“I don’t want to be any more late than I already am,” Oksana interrupted with a grimace before pushing open the door and taking a seat beside Agniya. Across the table sat Diego and Konstantin Vasiliev, a legend from the FSB department. The other woman held out her hand expectantly when Oksana took the pączki completely out of its bag, so Oksana split it in half and handed one off to her. Where Oksana gulped down the sweet almost instantly, Agniya sat and savored every bit. There had been days during the woman’s chemotherapy where she couldn’t eat anything, and now here she sat, healthy and happy and eating her pastry. Though Oksana always prided herself on the fact that she could detach herself from any office friendships, she'd always been fond of her supervisor. The cancer had broken both their hearts, but they had survived.

“I can see why you’re late then,” Diego sneered, gesturing at the split pączki, “Do you need us to fill you in?”

“Yeah,” Oksana said with a fake smile, “That’d be lovely.”

“Fredrick Peterson, the ambassador from Britain, was in Yekaterinburg last night with his wife. He was trying to broker a deal with representatives there to allow British companies to purchase more processed metals from them,” Konstantin said, pushing a file forward for the two women to look at. Oksana opened it and stared at the murder scene before her. “He was murdered last night after an assassin swapped his regular conditioner for one laced with saxitoxin.”

“And the assassin drowned him in the toilet?” Oksana asked, lifting up a picture. Konstantin nodded, and Oksana murmured, “Sweet..”

The gray-haired man took a moment to stare at her before saying, “His wife, Lydia Peterson, survived the attack but is in hospital and desperate to get home. We can’t have that until she lets us interview her.”

“And you need us…?” Agniya questioned as she waved a hand in the air.

“Since you’re both working with MFA, one of you can house the woman until we can send her back to London,” Diego spoke, “That way she doesn’t feel like a prisoner.”

“Oksana, this sounds like just the job for you,” Agniya said with a smile to her employee, who shot back a middle finger under the table, but she ignored her and instead asked Diego, “Can you make sure to shoot her an email with all the info? Just to make sure she picks up the right woman.”

“Of course. I know how forgetful she can be.” As the team got up to go along with their plans, Oksana remained seated, eyes transfixed on the gruesome pictures. Her years studying criminology had been going to waste, but looking at the images, she felt the cogs turning once again. A man killed in his hotel room, his dirty clothes still on the floor of the bathroom. His head in a toilet. His wife, barely breathing in the shower.

“Where were his wife’s clothes?” Oksana said, her head shooting up to look at the three others in the room.

“She was showering, she wouldn’t have been wearing any,” Diego said rather matter-of-factly.

“She would have had to take her clothes off to shower,” Oksana explained, shaking one picture in the air, “Fredrick’s clothes were there, where were hers?”

“Maybe she put them away already. I don’t know, does it matter?”

“I think the housekeeper did it,” Oksana said as she crossed her arms. Konstantin raised his brows as she continued, “She would have had access--”

“She?” Konstantin questioned, and Oksana nodded her head in confirmation, “What’s your name again?”

“Oksana. Oksana Astankova.”

“Oksana, focus on getting that woman to your home safe, hm?” Konstantin said, tapping the table twice before leaving. Diego made a foul face at Oksana before following after the FSB agent. She sat at the table a moment more, taking another long look at the crime scene photos, before scooping all the files in her arms and walking over to Agniya. The woman frowned and shook her head.

“What? They left them here,” Oksana said, playing an innocent look on her face, “He basically begged us to keep them.”

“Remember what your job is, okay?” Agniya said before offering her pączki to the blonde, “I’m full, you want the rest?”

“You sure?” Oksana said as she took it from Agniya with a concerned look. Agniya gave a curt nod, so Oksana ate the sweet in one gulp. “Do you think I can pick her up tonight?”

“So you can try and be the first to run questions with her?”

“Maybe.”

~~~

“Tallulah?” Elena called as she, Bill, and Kenny entered the assassin’s home. The plastic grocery bag she carried bounced against her calf, so she handed it off to Kenny, who was already carrying a couple bags and a carton of eggs. The house appeared empty, save for the trash scattered all across the floor.

“Jesus, does she never clean?” Bill spoke as he started picking up around the living room, “Surprised you don’t have to buy Raid all the time for her.”

“No, that’s only for kills,” Elena said, and Bill clicked his tongue and nodded. Kenny carefully traversed around the trash piles, Elena close behind, while carefully holding the eggs so as not to drop them. He took a step into the kitchen and was suddenly thrown against the wall, a knife to his throat. The groceries fell to the floor beside him in a heap.

“Oh my God!” Kenny shouted as the knife pressed further against his skin.

“Tallulah, c’mon, that wasn’t funny the first time, it’s not gonna be funny now,” Elena said, bending down to pick up the groceries. Tallulah finally let Kenny go, and he quickly stooped over to assist in the cleanup

“You have to admit it’s pretty funny,” Tallulah chuckled, leaning against the kitchen wall and looking down at the two. Kenny looked up with a pale face, but Elena let a smile crack through.

“It’s a little funny.”

“The eggs broke,” Kenny said lifting open the carton’s lid and running his hand over the shells, “Well, all but one egg broke.”

“You can make an omelette while we put all this away,” Elena said, giving Kenny a kind pat on the shoulder and reassuring smile. Even though they’d picked up fresh eggs for her, most of Tallulah’s food was prepackaged. Several cans of fruits and veggies as well as many cups of noodles or rice lined her grocery bags. Her refrigerator remained empty save for an old bottle of wine she hadn’t been able to finish and a very small bag of shredded cheese which Kenny was using for the omelette.

“Real artistry with your last kill,” Bill said, walking into the kitchen before pointing with excitement at Kenny, “Is he making omelettes?”

“There’s only one egg,” Kenny said, looking over his shoulder before averting his gaze.

“Can’t we have him run to the store and get some more? Keiko made breakfast, but I wasn’t hungry enough to eat it and now I’m suffering for it.”

“You know, my job’s supposed to be like… hacking and stuff,” Kenny said, shaking his head as he flipped the omelette, “Not head chef.”

“Your cooking's not good enough for you to be head chef,” Elena said. Kenny shot her a wide-eyed look, and the woman grinned teasingly back.

“That guy was a jerk though,” Tallulah said, walking over to stand beside Bill. She peered over the bar into the living room and was pleased to see the living room organized; she never had to clean up when she knew he was coming over because he’d do it for her. “I mean, he should’ve just died in the shower like his wife. Then I wouldn’t have had to touch toilet water.”

“Gross,” Elena muttered.

“And his wife didn’t die in the shower,” Bill said leaning his head forward.

“That’s not possible.” Tallulah’s arms fell to her side. “I put enough saxitoxin in that conditioner to kill them ten times over.”

“Apparently that wasn’t enough. Carolyn’s not happy.”

“She’s never happy.”

“You’re right on that,” Bill chuckled before handing Tallulah a file. Inside were papers detailing information about a Yekaterinburg hospital where Mrs. Peterson was apparently housed. The nurse schedule, number of guards assigned to her room, even the plumbing layout in case she needed that for any reason. All right here at her fingertips. “She needs you to kill her today. FSB is planning on transferring her to their custody, and we can’t allow her to be interviewed.”

“Omelette’s done,” Kenny said, lifting the plate up to show off the omelette's perfect half-circle shape. Well, almost perfect. Elena was right that he would never make the cut for head chef. But, she was the first person to snatch the plate.

“Mine!” Elena said with a grin.

“Oh, come on!” Eve said and reached a hand out, “You used my money to buy that egg.”

“And you broke those eggs thereby ceding you from any right to the last one.”

“Fine.”

“Tallulah, I need you to take this seriously,” Bill said, putting his hands on both her shoulders and turning her to face him, “If she says anything, they could trace all these murders back to you.”

“They won’t.”

“They might.”

“I’m too good.”

“Then prove it.”

~~~

After over ten hours of booking flights, getting stuck during a layover, and sitting next to a crying baby on a plane, Oksana had finally arrived in Yekaterinburg. It was almost eleven o’clock at night, and yet there was still a bustle about the city. She breathed in the air and looked up at the tall buildings, around at all the bright faces, and wondered if any of them were a killer. A woman, dressed in a pink fur jacket and faux leather pants, sat on a bench across the street beside a male counterpart. Could she be a murderer? Could she have taken a dying man by the hair, nails digging so deep into his scalp that blood seeped onto her fingers, and shoved his face into a toilet? Could she have held him there despite his struggles? The woman smiled brightly at her before turning to chat with her friend. Oksana whipped around and headed into the hospital, already cataloging in her mind another female killers book to read on the plane.

At the reception desk sat a quaint looking man wearing scrubs and a heavy set of glasses. There was a speaker beside him playing “Two Diamonds” by the group Prime Minister, and he sang along while thumbing through a month old architectural design magazine. She walked right up to the desk before he finally looked up and said, “No visitors this late.”

“I’m meant to be checking someone out of here, actually,” Oksana said, taking her clearance forms from her blazer and sliding them across the desk, “Lydia Peterson. FSB needs her in protective custody.”

“Let me look her up,” The man said as he typed the name into his computer. He looked up at Oksana, “Is she dangerous?”

“She was attacked by someone who is.”

“Not as exciting if you ask me,” The man laughed before adjusting his glasses and squinting at his screen, “Alright, looks like she’s on the fifth floor in recovery. Talk to Svetlana, she’s wearing the scrubs with Minions on it.”

“Oh good,” Oksana said while pulling a face. She took her papers back and headed to the elevator, pressed the fifth floor button, and watched the number at the top tick higher and higher. The elevator was slow, and she found herself humming to the tune of “Two Diamonds”. Finally, the elevator doors opened up to her floor, and she headed towards the nurses’ station. There sat Svetlana, her Minions scrubs brighter and more obnoxious than anything Oksana could have imagined.

“Hello! Have you left your room?” Svetlana said with a very condescending voice before Oksana shoved her clearance papers in her face.

“No. I’m with FSB and I’m here to pick up a patient.”

“I’m assuming this is about Mrs. Peterson?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be a few minutes to get her ready and all her things packed. Why don’t you wait in one of those?” Svetlana said, pointing to a pair of very uncomfortable looking chairs. Oksana looked between them and raised a brow, but Svetlana nodded approvingly so Oksana took a seat in one with fewer stains. The other woman moved around the nurses’ station, grabbing a few things before heading off, leaving Oksana all alone. She twirled her hair and bounced her knee and started counting the ceiling tiles, but after five minutes she was beyond bored.

There was a small bathroom at the end of the hall. When Oksana entered, she noticed that one stall was occupied and the other was out of order, so she stood at the sink, fixing her hair and admiring herself. She’d worn a very smart blazer and matching pants all in navy and green check, and a twinge at the back of her mind regretted not wearing something bolder. Something like her three piece suit, or her designer dress she’d blown an entire paycheck on. Anything to bring a little more excitement out of the day because even though she had flown across the country, nothing about the trip seemed very memorable, other than that horrendous pair of Minions scrubs. A shiver went down her spine at the thought, and Oksana knew she had to remedy the situation somehow. In her pocket, she fished out a tube of lipstick and took off the cap, ready to reapply her makeup.

The occupied stall opened, and out walked a gorgeous woman. She was Asian, and she wore a pair of pale blue scrubs. A nurse who worked on the floor. Her hair was down and it was a magnificent mane of curls and waves. Oksana had always been fond of big and curly hair, and this woman’s was just that. She couldn’t help herself from staring as the woman came up to the sink beside her, washing her hands before pulling a hair tie from her wrist and readying her hair to put it up. The woman must have noticed the sudden attention because she turned and matched Oksana’s stare. Her head dipped a little when she said, “Can I help you?”

“Wear it down.” Oksana started applying her lipstick after saying that, turning to look at the mirror, but she knew that the woman was watching her, watching her lips and the smack of her lips once she’d finished applying it. The hair fell to the woman’s shoulders, a wonderful cascade that had Oksana smiling. A shade of crimson now stuck to her lips, and the woman stared a second longer before heading to the door. Oksana turned to go into the now unoccupied stall, but she spotted that the woman had stopped at the exit. “Yes?”

“Can I…” The woman hesitated, flushing as she looked Oksana over again. The two words sat in the air, and the blonde woman leaned forward to will the other to finish her thought. Their eyes met before the mysterious woman finished, “Borrow your lipstick?”

“Of course!” Oksana purred as she walked right beside the woman, handing her the tube. She was very careful in opening it, and as soon as the end touched her lip, dark brown eyes locked with hazel ones. The lipstick moved over and up, but the woman wasn’t paying attention to it being perfect. All of her attention was on Oksana, who could have melted under the heavy gaze. With a smack of her lips, the woman placed the lipstick back in Oksana’s hand, holding it for a moment longer than a casual bathroom encounter should have. That hand, so surprisingly rough, held a story that Oksana wanted to know.

“Thanks again.” And as soon as she had come into her world, she was gone. There was a moment where she gripped the door handle and considered running after the woman to ask for her number, for her name, for an evening together, but instead her hand slipped to her side where it slipped her lipstick back in her pocket. Oksana wasn’t ready to go back out yet and leave the joyful bubble she still sat in, so she went into the available stall and used it. As she was about to get up, she got a call from Agniya.

“I hope you know the crime you’ve committed by sending me on this trip,” Oksana said, frowning deeply, “I had to see a nurse wearing Minions scrubs. Like from Despicable Me.”

“You’re still at the hospital?” Agniya asked, her voice a little tight.

“Yeah, the nurse said to wait so I’m in the bathroom right now,” Oksana explained and paused before asking, “Is everything alright?”

“The housekeeper who was supposed to be on call for the Petersons’ suite was found dead in the hotel’s AC ducts without her uniform. She’d been drowned in coolant.”

“So I was right that the assassin was the housekeeper, or at least pretending to be?”

“Get Mrs. Peterson to Moscow safe as soon as possible. She can give a description of her husband’s killer.” Oksana hung up the phone, washed her hands, and exited the bathroom. So she was right! Oh, and after Diego had acted like such a dick. She couldn’t wait to shove this in his face. The phone was ringing at the empty nurses’ station, so Oksana reached over the desk, peeking over her shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, and hung the phone up. Just as she turned to sit back in one of the stained chairs, a flicker of movement caught her eye. Marching just past the desk and peering down the hall, Oksana clutched her chest.

Blood. Pools of it all over the floor and all across the walls. And bodies, of nurses of guards of a doctor. Oksana tottered past each corpse, her mouth twitching as she took in the horrific scene. At the end of the massacre sat a room with Lydia Peterson’s name printed on it, the door open wide to show the crimes within. A couple more guards, dead on the floor, and Svetlana in blood soaked Minion scrubs laid with them. Lydia’s bed was empty, but there was a blood trailing leading from it to the bathroom.

“Oh my god, Lydia!” Oksana yelled as she flew to aid the woman. Her face was submerged in the overflowing sink and her hands were taped to the walls beside her so she couldn’t escape. Oksana ripped the tape off and lowered her gently to the floor, trying and failing to perform CPR. “Help! Somebody help, please!!” But no one was coming. And on Lydia’s cheek, as Oksana smacked it to try and get her to wake, lay a perfect, crimson kiss.


	2. It's Not Lame, It's Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the mess she made with the assassination of the Petersons, Tallulah is forced on a break from her jobs. Oksana copes with being put on paid leave by picking up a new job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a slightly NSFW scene where Nadia and Oksana almost have sex, just a warning

The grocery bag spilled out tube after tube of lipstick when it hit the table, and Tallulah immediately started pulling off their lids and smearing them on her arm. This one was too dark, this one was too pink, this one was too bright. When she closed her eyes and tried to remember the brand, Tallulah was just met with that blonde woman’s face, so obviously interested in her and… attracted to her. Niko had never looked at her like that in all their years of marriage. No one had looked at her like that, like she was their first choice. But this stranger, this well-dressed, young, attractive, delicate-featured--

“I still don’t understand why you want all these,” Elena said, stooping over and testing discarded lipsticks on her arm, slipping any that looked good into her pocket, “I mean, you own like two tubes, and suddenly you have me buy out the entire store.”

“Sometimes you just have to treat yourself,” Tallulah said with a shrug, looking at a smear of lipstick on her arm and wondering if she had stayed a moment longer in that bathroom if that woman would have kissed her. Would she have asked to go back to her place? Would she have gone with her?

A phone ping pulled Tallulah from her musings, and she saw Elena pull her phone from her pocket and check the notification. It must have been bad news because she quickly inhaled before saying, “Oh shit.”

“What?” 

“It’s a text from Bill,” She said, taking another look at the text, “He says you can’t do any more jobs for the time being. Well, he uses the word ‘indefinitely’ if we want to be specific.”

“Oh, come on!” Tallulah said, rolling her eyes, “Just because I didn’t kill them both at once doesn’t mean I still didn’t end up finishing the job! That’s just complete bullshit.”

“Don’t yell at me, I’m just the one delivering the news.”

“You’re right,” Tallulah said, standing up and picking up her parka where it sat by the door, “I’m gonna go and tell him that it’s complete bullshit.”

“Tallulah!” Elena called, but she was already out the door and down the steps. As she reached her car, Elena appeared at the passenger side and said, “I can’t let you go see him alone. You’ll strangle him to death and stuff him into the sewers.”

“I don’t know why you think your presence would change that.”

“Is it not enough to just want to be an audience?” Elena said, and Tallulah grinned before getting in the car. She peered in the back seat, newly cleaned, and pulled a gun from below one of the seats. Her colleague’s eyes widened before carefully taking it from her and saying, “Okay, well, let’s put this away just in case. He probably has his reasons for doing this.”

“Bullshit reasons,” Tallulah muttered as she pulled out of her parking spot and headed to Bill’s. He lived in a gorgeous Tudor mansion perched on a hill with the most spectacular garden, thanks to his wife’s hefty inheritance. Some evenings when she didn’t have to kill and Bill didn’t have to worry about covering up their team’s criminal activities, she would sit on a wrought iron bench with him, drinking gin and tonics and joking as if their livelihoods weren’t built on assassinations. The thought made her want to grab the gun from where Elena had hid it, but she used what little restraint she possessed to rein her rage back in. She’d killed too quick before in anger, and the consequences had been drastic.

The timing was perfect when they arrived. Bill was just shutting the gate surrounding his home and getting ready to push his daughter’s stroller down the sidewalk when Tallulah nearly drove the car over the sidewalk. She slammed the car door shut and came stomping around it as Bill said, “Well, hi there, Tallulah. I suppose you’re not here to take a stroll with us?”

“What the hell, Bill?” Tallulah said, standing in front of him with arms out on either side, “You’re not giving me any more jobs?”

“I tried to stop her,” Elena said grimacing before walking over to wave at Bill’s baby and taking her out of the stroller, “Hi, sweetheart! Let’s go back inside, hm? Let these two grumpies argue out here.”

“You know I’m amazing at this job. Amazing at every job you give me. Why the hell are you doing this to me?” Talullah questioned, her hands falling to her side. Bill helped Elena with the gate before pushing the stroller just inside the yard, walking back out to face the assassin.

“Carolyn personally asked for you to be off any jobs. But even if she hadn’t said anything, I still would have taken you off any jobs,” Bill said, walking down the sidewalk with Tallulah at his side. She scoffed and he said, “It will be seven years this week since all that stuff with Niko went down. And from how gaudy last week’s murder at the hospital was--”

“That wasn’t gaudy.”

“You basically killed an entire floor of people!” Bill laughed before looking around and continuing in a quieter voice, “I just think it’s best we put you in the back burner for a little while. Just so we can let your emotions settle a little more until this week is over, at least.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I know you don’t. But think of this as a vacation. Travel. Do something bold. Just don’t kill,” He said with a smile, putting one of his hands on her shoulder as they rounded their way back to his gate. Elena stepped outside the front door with a half-empty glass clutched in her hand and Keiko’s hand in the other.

“Keiko made mimosas!” She called and did an excited, little dance. “I’ve already had a few, so you guys need to catch up!”

“Sorry, Elena, I’ve got plans!” Tallulah said back before giving Bill a pat on the shoulder. “Gotta start my vacation.”

“Good girl!” Bill said with a smile entering his yard and shutting the gate behind him. Tallulah watched from beside her car as he approached the pair on the porch, the banter between all of them. She almost wanted to stay. Almost. Instead, she got in her car and opened up her contacts, clicking on Kenny’s name.

“I don’t care what Bill or Carolyn told you, you’re going to give me my next job,” Tallulah said as she turned on the car, taking one last look at Bill’s home before pulling out of the spot.

“Um… I can’t just… Do that, y’know. Carolyn said--”

“I’m sorry, but is Carolyn an assassin who knows where you live and who keeps a gun in her car?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Then give it to me.”

~~~

There was now enough leftover stroganoff in Oksana’s fridge and freezer to supply her for a year. That was her punishment for not coming to Leonid’s birthday party, that and hearing Dasha slurping and chewing loudly in the other room. The fork would scrape against the side of her bowl, and then Dasha would smack her tongue against the back of her teeth before chomping down and hitting the metal of the fork. The noodles and meat would stir around in her half-open mouth before she finally smacked her lips together and swallowed it all down. Then the process would start all over again. It worsened when Dasha said, with food still in her mouth, “You know, paid leave for trauma is just a way for them to cover their asses. They don’t want you to sue them for putting you in the path of a psycho--”

“Can you  _ please _ stop chewing so loud?” Oksana finally burst, leaning forward on the sofa to leer at Dasha at the kitchen table. The woman set down her fork and raised her hands before getting up and leaning against the door frame.

“None of this would have happened if you came to Leonid’s party, y’know.”

“A woman’s dead, Dasha. A whole floor of people is dead.”

“And you wouldn’t have to have witnessed any of that if you had just stayed for the party,” Dasha said, squinting her eyes, “But you just had to be a career woman, hm? Get to that lady ASAP to transfer her out at night. Should have waited until morning.”

“I thought it would be safer at night. Less risk,” Oksana said with a shake of her head, “But this assassin, she--”

“Oh, she? She, she, she? Projecting much?” Oksana wanted to scream at her, but the doorbell sounded and she leapt at the opportunity to get away, if only to keep herself from smacking Dasha. The face she saw when the door opened almost made her do a double take.

“Oksana, right?” Konstantin asked with a nervous smile. She nodded slowly, and he continued, “Let’s go for a quick drive. You’re not busy right?”

“I have two months free thanks to your orders, so yeah,” Oksana said, a fake smile plastered across her face, “I’m not busy.” Konstantin let out a quiet, awkward laugh before walking down the hall to the elevator. They stood in silence in the machine as it slowly made its way down, the light in it flickering after every floor. The FSB agent dug around in his pocket before pulling out a pack of chewing gum.

“Please don’t,” Oksana said, pulling a grimace as she remembered Dasha’s chewing from just a few beforehand. He looked at her for a moment, but then he shrugged and put it back in his pockets. They finally reached the ground floor, and the pair exited the elevator, heading straight to Konstantin’s car. How he managed to find a spot in front of her apartment building astounded Oksana beyond belief. Pretty soon they were a couple blocks from her apartment, sitting in the fancy leather seats of Konstantin’s car. Oksana spent too much of her money on clothes, so she could never afford a car like his. Still, as Oksana listened to the engine purr, she knew she could at least let herself dream of a future where she had one. She finally asked, “What’s this all about?”

“You know, we had to investigate you when Mrs. Peterson was murdered?” He said, peeking at Oksana from the corner of his eye. She shifted a little in her seat and raised her eyebrows. “Yeah. We had to sweep your computer. Search your desk drawers. Run a history on you.”

“Oh no,” Oksana said, watching as Konstantin opened the center console and pulled out a stack of folders. Her face paled for a moment when he handed it to her, and when she looked inside it was filled with images of various murders. “Oh! Oh, I thought you’d found all the pictures I had photoshopped of Diego’s face on pumpkins!”

“Yes, yes. We found those too,” Konstantin said with a loud laugh, before saying with a more serious voice, “How long have you been investigating this?”

“Ever since I started my job,” Oksana said, waving her hand as she explained, “It gave me a higher government clearance so I could access crime scene photos. I had been collecting articles on some of her first kills for a little bit before, but the investigation wasn’t as in depth until I started with MSB.”

“And you think they are--”

“Assassinations. Done by the same assassin,” Oksana said, pulling out photo after photo and looking them over. She’d seen them dozens of times, but it felt different when she could share her ideas and actually be listened to. “A woman, extremely intelligent and extremely strong with a fixation on water-related deaths, has been killing high security people. CEOs, politicians, celebrities, you name it. With such worldly access, she’s got to be getting paid by someone. And she’s not stopping or slowing down.”

“We’re here,” Konstantin said, parking in front of a dingy computer store. Oksana kept the pictures with her as she got out. They walked in the store, and he waved at the clerk before heading up the stairs in the back. There was a dark red curtain at the top made of velvet, and Oksana petted them before pushing them aside and entering the room after Konstantin. A few desks sat in the room, and a solitary plant stood in a corner. There were no windows, leaving the room with a rather dark and damp feeling. “Can you start tomorrow?”

“Start…?” Oksana said, tipping her head and raising a brow.

“Officially unofficially investigate her. Find her and the organization she works for,” He said, tapping the crime scene photos Oksana kept clung to her chest, “She’s been getting away with this for too long, but you’ve known. And I think you can find her.”

“And you want me to start tomorrow?”

“If that’s alright.”

“Yeah. Beats sitting on the couch watching Netflix all day.”

“I’ve already assembled you a team--”  
“No teams,” Oksana said, pulling a chair over and sitting in it. She stuck her tongue out and shook her head before saying, “I hate team projects.”

“It’s your old coworkers. Agniya, Nadia, Diego.”

“If I  _ have _ to have a team, then no Diego,” Oksana said with an eye roll, “He annoys me the most.”

“Fine. No Diego,” Konstantin said, pointing a finger at her, “But you have to utilize your team. I’ll also be bringing in an IT expert just to help with any data access you may need.”

“Hacking?”

“That amongst other things.”

~~~

Bill had been right that Tallulah needed a vacation. A couple days in Málaga, Spain, and she had already relaxed by dining at Restaurante Amador, drinking wine on the beach, and viewing Picasso’s artworks at the local museum. But a couple days were enough to also prepare her for her next job in the same city. La Malagueta Bullring was easy enough to get into the day of a bullfight since Tallulah had forged an identification card marking her as a picador. The picador outfit she wore helped too with the obviously expensive embroidery and tight, high-waisted pants. If it were more socially acceptable and she wasn’t just about to kill someone in it, she’d wear it all the time in London.

People rushed around behind the scenes, yelling at each other and passing off any necessary equipment. A sword that needed shined or a magenta and gold cape that needed ironing were exchanged right in front of Tallulah, but her eyes remained focused on a man, a matador, ahead of her. He was speaking to one of his banderilleros, an encouraging hand on his shoulder and an excited smile plastered on his face. It was odd, thinking how someone could be so excited to place themselves in front of a raging bull willingly. Was it for fame? For money? Or did he just want to know if he could do it, face the creature and come out the sole victor in their struggle?

“Oh, hello there,” The matador said as she approached, and he tipped his head forward, “Not much longer before we start. Exciting, yes?”  
“Nothing more exciting than a fiesta,” Tallulah said, clapping her hands and matching his smile. She let her face turn serious as she said, “I don’t mean to alarm you before you enter the ring, but I think there may be something wrong with the bull.”

“I just saw him an hour ago, he seemed perfect!” The matador said, turning to his companion, “I’ll go check him again, you stay here and make sure Ximena brings back my cape.”

“He just seemed suddenly lethargic, I don’t know what could be the matter,” Tallulah said, speed-walking alongside the matador. He shook his head and rubbed his hands together, before looking over at Tallulah curiously.

“Who are you fighting with?”

“Joel Muñoz.”

“He never told me he was getting a picadora. Good for him. I’m always saying we need more women in bullfighting,” He said with a shake of his head, “It’s a shame they let so many talented women not have their opportunity all because of some old fashioned traditions. But I’m sure I don’t have to preach that to you.”

“It’s better than having someone tell you you’re not supposed to be here,” Tallulah said with a laugh, and the matador chuckled with her. It was funny to each of them for very different reasons.

“Is it worth it? The fight, against the organizers and friends and family, just to get in there with the bulls?” He asked, eyes bright and curious. 

“You’ve been in there yourself,” Tallulah said, her smile small, “You know how much it’s worth.”

“I don’t know who I’d be if I didn’t bullfight,” The matador said with a sigh and a nod at her, “And I’m sure you feel the same.”

“Of course,” She said, stopping at one of the bull cots. Inside lay the massive bull, sound asleep. The matador smacked the side of the cot to see if that would stir the animal awake, but it stayed in its heavy slumber. A whole lot of sedatives had made sure of that.

“Is he drugged?” The man said, opening the cot cautiously and stepping inside. Tallulah followed closely behind, and once he was all the way in and close to the bull, she punched him in the throat. The matador’s hands flew to his throat, and Tallulah grabbed him by the hair and dragged him to the bull’s water trough, shoving his face into the cold water. His hat fell into the water which made keeping his head submerged easier. Any time he would start to lift his head, she would shove his head deeper into the depths. Finally, after a few minutes, his struggle ended and he slumped down. Tallulah watched his body fall to the floor, the water ruining his previously perfectly done hair. 

The bull still slumbered behind them. Tallulah leaned her head against it, closing her eyes and listening to its heavy breaths. Her hand traced the towering muscle between its shoulders and eventually down to the spot where a banderilla would have punctured the beast. A stab, not meant to kill, but to slow it down. Bullfighting was real artwork like that; you were protecting yourself from its horns while also protecting it from your sword. That is, until either creature made the final move. She gave the bull one final pat before leaving the bullring and heading back to her hotel room to grab her luggage. Screw anything Bill and Carolyn thought. Niko wasn’t going to keep her from doing her job right.

~~~

“So he got you guys on board before me?” Oksana asked as she shifted her coffee and folders all to one arm while the other shoved open the computer store’s door. The bell at the top loudly clanged, and the woman working the register looked up with a glare. “That just seems unfair. He practically said I’d be leading the team.”

“Well, he couldn’t quite approach the woman whose orders he’d given to almost lead her to being face to face with an assassin,” Agniya said, and Nadia laughed from behind her. All three of them ascended the creaky, wooden stairs. Pausing at the curtain, Oksana felt a newfound excitement upon seeing the merlot-colored velvet. As soon as she pushed past it, it meant her life would change forever. Her investigation into this woman, into her whole organization, it would be her full time job. A hand pressed on her shoulder, and she looked back at Nadia.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” She asked, her face etched with worry, “You’ve seen what she can do first hand. We won’t blame you if you want to leave.”

“No,” Oksana said and faced the curtain with a determined smile, “I want this.”

“If you’re sure,” Agniya said, and the three of them entered the office. Instead of finding it with no inhabitants, except the plant of course, they found a girl, about middle school age, drinking a milkshake at one of the desks. She typed nonchalantly on the keyboard and didn’t even look up as she quickly became surrounded by the three women.

“Who brought the ten year old?” Oksana asked, wrinkling her nose at the sight of the child.

“I’m thirteen,” The girl said and shot the blonde a middle finger. Oksana shot one back, and very quickly they were engaged in a flip off contest which was broken up by Agniya grabbing both of their arms.

“Enough of that,” The woman said, shooting a look at both of them.

“Where are your parents?” Nadia asked with a condescending tone. The girl rolled her eyes and took another sip from her milkshake. “Is it the woman downstairs?”

“You know Konstantin. He said you guys needed help with IT shit.”

“Konstantin’s your dad?” Agniya almost gasped, and Irina mouthed a yes. The woman nodded her head before saying, “I didn’t even know Konstantin had kids.”

“Kid,” Irina said, setting her milkshake down and crossing her arms, “Just the one and only Irina Vasiliev.”

“Oh, come on,” Oksana said, grabbing Irina’s unattended milkshake and taking a sip before saying, “He wears that lame friendship bracelet like every day. What grown man would wear that willingly if it weren’t for some stupid kid making him?”

“Hey! Give me back my milkshake!” Irina said before snatching it from Oksana’s grasp. She held it close to her chest before continuing, “And it’s not lame, it’s art.”

“And how long did that art take you?” Oksana said, putting her hands on her hips and pulling a face, “Five minutes?”

“Can we please just get to work?” Agniya said, pulling a chair up to one of the computers and placing her head between her hands, “Christ, you two are going to give me a migraine.”

“My dad’s been having me track any high profile water related deaths,” Irina said, pulling up a set of crime scene photos on her computer. A matador, laying on a bull cot floor right beside a trough of water. “Manuel Macedo. He was killed less than twenty minutes before he was set to fight the very bull whose cot he was drowned in its trough. One of Manuel’s picadores saw a woman picador talking to him, but he says he doesn’t remember what she looked like.”

“That’s useful,” Oksana said with an eye roll before taking a deeper look at the photos.

“Should we really have a kid helping the investigation?” Nadia asked, looking between Oksana and Agniya.

“Why would she have to kill a matador?” Oksana said, holding a hand in the air, “I mean, I understood why they killed Peterson. Guy trying to outsource factories. But a matador?”

“Maybe she was hired by PETA,” Agniya said with a cheeky grin, but Oksana was too focused to appreciate her humor.

“Would an international assassin organization even look at any jobs paid for by PETA?”

“Maybe?” Nadia said with a shrug, “I mean, I had a cousin who did like underground UFC fights and was vegan. She could stand beating someone to a bloody pulp but you even suggested the fact that you drank a glass of milk and she would turn pale.”

“I would too,” Agniya said and shot a disgusted look at the other woman, “Who just drinks a plain glass of milk?”

“Looks like Manuel was a bit of a controversy in the bullfighting community,” Irina said as she pulled up a few articles in Spanish, “He advocated for more women in bullfighting, including more female matadores.”

“That was controversial?” Nadia asked, tipping her head forward.

“Traditions run deep.”

“This is still all assuming that Manuel was actually killed by the woman picador and not one of his rivals. Or even a jealous ex. Who knows. No one actually saw the murder.”

“Wouldn’t it make sense though? Advocates for women in bullfighting, is killed by a woman pretending to be in bullfighting.”

“Irony isn’t proof.” Oksana shrugged at this, and during the lull she grew more and more frustrated. If only she could see her assassin’s face, then she would know that all this research and struggle wouldn’t be for vain. Nobody could doubt that a woman had been travelling all over, killing high ranking officials without being traced until Oksana caught on. Pride flared a little in her chest at that one, so she pulled her lipstick out from her pocket to reapply it, if only to carry the high mood by knowing she looked good. But as soon as she popped off the lid, she stopped and stared at it. The memory came rushing back to her.

“There was a woman, a nurse, in the bathroom the night Mrs. Peterson died,” Oksana said, setting her hands down and looking at her team members, “She left the bathroom before I did and I didn’t recognize her from all the bodies.”

“A possible witness?”

“Maybe!” Oksana said, leaning over to look at Irina’s computer, “Is there a way for you to search the employee database for all the nurses at the hospital Mrs. Peterson was at?”

“I can do anything,” Irina said, already typing, “Why else do you think I’m here?”

~~~

Elena usually dropped off or picked up the drycleaning. She had some special contract with them where as long as they didn’t question or turn in the bloody clothes, then she would make sure they got some extra cash under the table. They knew Elena. They liked Elena. But today, Tallulah decided to drop off her drycleaning herself because she wasn’t quite ready to let her colleagues know that she had betrayed orders and murdered a man. The aroma of the bulls still stuck to her picador outfit, so a stop at the drycleaners became a necessity. The shop was completely empty when Tallulah; but there was a little, gold bell on the front desk, so Tallulah picked it up and gave it a ring. A woman quickly pushed open the curtain and smiled at her.

“Oh, hello!” The woman said, approaching the front desk, “How can I help you today?”

“Can I have this dry cleaned?” Tallulah said, placing the clothes on the desk.

“You were smart to bring it in! We have a twenty percent off sale on costume cleaning!” The lady said with a customer service voice before examining the outfit, “Wow, this stitching is so detailed… Was it done by hand?”

“I had a designer in Madrid make it special for me.” The door opened behind her, and Tallulah turned her head to look at the new patron. It was Bill. Damn. She thought she could go another day without their inevitable confrontation.

“Here’s your voucher. You’ll need this to pick your suit back up. It should be done by the end of the week,” The lady said as she handed a red slip of paper to Tallulah. Then she turned and waved at Bill to try and get him to approach the counter, “How can I help you sir?”

“Just waiting for my friend here,” He said and tried to grin, but it just turned into a grimace. The receptionist winced a little, quickly grabbing the picador outfit and heading to the back. Bill clapped his hand on Tallulah’s shoulder and guided her outside, shaking his head the whole time. “That was a snazzy outfit. Did you go to a fiesta in Spain?”

“Spain?” Tallulah said, adjusting her parka before looking over innocently at Bill, “I haven’t left London.”

“Well, your card had purchases of tickets to and from Spain. As well as multiple purchases in the country,” Bill spoke, numbering off his fingers as he tallied his evidence, “And then there’s the fact that when I visited your home, it was unoccupied.”

“My identity must have been stolen,” Tallulah shrugged, “And we’ve always been bad at timing.”

“You have to stop being so reckless,” Bill said and stopped walking. It took a second for Tallulah to realize and to turn and face her colleague. They stood a couple meters apart, staring each other down. “Carolyn’s not happy.”

“She’s never happy.”

“She’s afraid you’re going to get caught,” Bill said, taking in a deep breath before continuing, “You’re being investigated by the Russians.”

“Really?”

“Some woman in Moscow, Oksana Astankova, is heading it with FSB’s help.”

“You’re lying,” Tallulah said with a cheeky grin, but Bill’s face remained as still as stone. The attention excited Tallulah. She wasn’t used to being singled out.

“I wish I wasn’t,” He said and lifted his hand before it fell back to his side, “I can give you your jobs back. But you have to promise to keep a low profile. I don’t know what Carolyn will do if you mess up again. She’s already threatened to take Elena off the team.”

“I’ll be careful. For Elena’s sake.”

“Good,” Bill said and patted his belly, “I’m famished. There’s a lovely coffee shop a couple blocks down, you want to grab something?”

“No, no, that’s alright,” Tallulah said, already moving back the way she came to find her car, “I already ordered some Thai food to be at the house when I get back, and I don’t want one of my asshole neighbors to steal it.”

“Well then,” Bill said and saluted to her before heading to his shop, “Have fun!”

~~~

Nadia opted to stay with Oksana while she searched through all the nurses' photos; the desperate woman had even pulled her chair right next to Oksana so their knees bumped together. All the faces kept blurring together on the screen, none of them stood out like that woman from the bathroom. The hair, the eyes, the way she had applied that lipstick. She closed her eyes and the image of that indirect kiss burned on her eyelids. Something else in her began to burn too. Her eyes flipped open and she stared at Nadia, waiting for the woman to look at her. When she did, the brunette flushed and awkwardly said, “I don’t suppose you’ve seen her yet?”

“If I did, would we still be here?” Oksana asked, placing a hand on the woman’s knee. Nadia looked at her with a shy face, and Oksana wanted to roll her eyes, but instead she closed them and kissed Nadia. The brunette pulled away, but only a breath away from Oksana.

“Should we be doing this?”

“We don’t have to if you want,” Oksana said and started to pull away, but Nadia quickly kissed her again. She wanted this more than Oksana did. The blonde just needed a break to refresh her mind for searching through even more nurses’ photos. Oksana kissed along Nadia’s jaw, down her neck, and focusing on her collarbone. She closed her eyes and imagined it was an Asian woman with amazing hair. When she grabbed Nadia’s tit and gave it a squeeze, causing Nadia to let out a quiet moan, she imagined that her encounter in the bathroom didn’t end with them parting ways, but instead reenacting this scene with Nadia.

“God, that feels good,” Nadia said, but Oksana was already thinking of elsewhere, her hands already unzipping and pulling Nadia’s pants down.

“Don’t talk.”

“Okay,” Nadia almost whispered, and her breathing stuttered as Oksana placed kisses

and bites along her newly exposed thighs. Oksana slowly spread Nadia’s legs apart, and just as she was leaning forward to start eating her out, her eyes flickered over to the computer screen. Suddenly, it all made sense. She jumped to her feet and made her way across the room to leave. Nadia called after her, “Hey! Don’t go!”

But Oksana was already down the stairs and out of the computer store, her phone up to her ear saying, “Agniya? The woman in the bathroom wasn’t a nurse. She was the assassin.”

~~~

When Tallulah arrived home, she immediately started googling all spellings of the name Oksana Astankova before finally settling on the correct one. She had scrolled for hours down the farthest pages in the google search results, and finally landed on a facebook post from a Dasha Duzran, posing with her former foster daughter and a bowl of stroganoff. This former foster daughter was Oksana Astankova, and she was also the woman from the bathroom who had been so fixated on her, so attracted to her. Tallulah’s hand jumped to her lips and she traced them with a couple fingers as she stared at the woman, smiling as she realized just how far this other woman’s fascination with her went. Did she know now that the woman she had wanted to bed was her? Did that hinder her attraction?

Hovering her mouse over the woman’s face showed a link to another facebook page, and clicking it led to Oksana’s own facebook page. Tallulah held her breath as she looked through all the photos and posts. Here was a picture of her at a criminology conference called EuroCrim, here she was posing awkwardly with her coworkers, here she was working out. Tallulah spent a long time staring at that last picture. Every image filled Tallulah with an exhilaration like none other. The friend request button shone blue in the corner of the webpage, a beacon calling for Tallulah. So of course, she had to oblige and press it, watching the words “friend request” change to “pending”.

If Oksana wanted to find her so badly, why not make it a little easier.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm planning at least 24 chapters, but that may change depending on how much time I get and how I actually end up parsing the outline. I am in LOVE with this fic just from outline alone and cannot wait to write more of it!!!!! I am happy to answer any questions (as long as they don't do too many spoilers lmao) and really hope you'll stay tuned for the next chapter.


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